Hurting
by fireworkfiasco
Summary: After he saved her life, Fred confronts Wesley about what's happened between them. [et just after The Price, without the return of Conner]


**Hurting**  
Rating: Pg.15;  
Blurb: Fred confronts Wesley about why she's hurting. (Set after 'The Price.')

* * *

I must be mad. Why else would I be standing here, staring so harshly at those numbers, those silly numbers, hoping, praying, really, to be sucked into the floor? 

I came to thank him. I have to thank him. But as I stand here, I'm starting to realize that I don't. Want to thank him, that is. I don't want to mutter a thank you and then disappear. What I want…

Well, I can't have.

I didn't realize it, actually, until just a few hours ago, when Charles told me that it had been Wesley who saved me. Charles told me what Wesley had said; about his friends, about how he only agreed to help after he found out that it was me.

What am I supposed to do? Thank him for saving my life? But only because it was me? If it had been Charles, or Angel, or Cordelia, or even Groo; he wouldn't have helped. I know that, deep in the pit of my stomach…

But I don't care, I guess. It's just that…

I don't know what to do anymore. Ever since I heard that red-haired snipe say that Wesley was in Heaven – he could never be in Hell, never; not my Wesley – I knew that something was wrong. Like a parasite, eating away at the inside of me, something was different. I didn't realize it until Charles told me that we weren't welcome at Wesley's anymore.

I couldn't stop seeing him.

I sat among his books, trying to fill his shoes and failing miserably. I could still smell a hint of him in the office – something that smelled like worn leather and peppermint – something delicious and spicy and exotic and enticing all at once. I found myself expecting him to walk in any moment, to stand in the doorway and watch me as I pretended not to notice that he was right there.

I began to realize what was wrong.

Everything was wrong. I was wrong, Wesley was wrong, Charles was wrong. Everyone was living this elaborate lie; and I suddenly found myself staring at the truth.

It hit me while I struggled under Angel; watching it like it was a movie as my body cracked and broke. My mind was my only comfort… My death, to me, seemed unavoidable. And the one thing I regretted was never confronting Wesley. Not about Conner, but about me, about him, about Charles…

And now I'm standing here, telling myself that I only came to thank him, when I know that that's a lie.

I'm living a lie. And I'm sick of it.

So I'm going to fix this; make it right. Try and liberate myself from this hole I've dug.

I hate to say it, but I've been hiding. From the truth, from myself…I thought I could just bury myself behind the quiet exterior, behind Charles and be happy. But I can't.

I love him. I love Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, rogue demon hunter extraordinaire.

And now he's opening the door and my heart's tearing in two. He looks so…unkempt, so wild and untamed and unloved that I choke back a sob.

"Fred?" His voice is strained and raspy, grating my already sore nerves.

And suddenly, I'm in his arms and he's holding me as I sob. Seeing him so alone hurts more than I thought.

"Sh, Fred; it'll be okay…" Although sounding like it costs him to speak, his tone is soft, the words caressing my ear.

I pull away slightly, tracing the hard lines of his mouth with a finger, over the bristles of an unsaved jaw, recording the angry look of Wesley in my mind for all eternity. He looks like a man who has lost it all and has nothing left to care about.

Then he jerks away, crossing the room to his bottle and glass, leaving me alone, an island unto myself again. I wrap my arms around myself, trying and failing to recapture the warmth I had just felt moments before.

"What are you doing here?" Now he sounds drained. Like it hurts for me to be there; like I'm making him sacrifice something.

I want to sob again, to curl into myself and let the tears come. How could the world get this screwed up? Just a week before, we were all a happy family; baby Conner cooing away upstairs, Lorne calling everyone pastries, Angel smiling, Charles winking at me, Wesley hiding in his office, upset and secretive but still _there_, and not here.

Here; alone and angry and abandoned.

Tears start down my cheeks, racing themselves to drip off my chin. I watch them dot my sweater with fascination, before realizing with a start that it's one of _his_ sweaters; one he gave me a long time ago when I was still slightly-crazy Fred, and not fill-in-for-the-missing-member Fred.

I wish the world were sane again, instead of this mess we call reality. Angel shouldn't have to stare at the walls, unseeing, the plaster cracked and horribly upsetting. Wesley shouldn't be injured, solitary, and forgotten. And I shouldn't have to be here, crying because I can't believe how insane this has all gotten.

What happened to the innocence we once had? I guess we lost it; we saw and we learned and now we know betrayal and anger and hurt…

He's pouring himself another drink; draining it so fast. Maybe he ought to just drink from the bottle; wouldn't sully any dishes that way. Then it hits me; sully. It's one of his words… One I started using after listening to him speak with that accent.

Fresh tears are staining my cheeks. And we stand there; anger and sadness, opposing one another, facing off, waiting for the other to make the first move.

I want to, I really do. But I can't. I'm hurting; just as he is. Maybe not for the same reasons, but I know pain like I know happiness, like I know sadness. And what's burning inside of me is hurting me.

I need to know that it's okay. That Wesley is still Wesley beneath all the hurt and the anger. I need to know that it's okay that I love him.

And then I'm standing in front of him, the bottle in my hand, long, hard swallows burning my throat as I embrace his way of fighting off the pain. He watches with nothing in his eyes; not a single thing flashing behind his crystal blue gaze.

But I don't care anymore. All I want is for normalcy to come home, to return from wherever it's off running around.

I guess I'm starting to go numb on the inside, too. Like Angel as he spits venom at the world. Like Wesley as he takes the bottle back, guzzling down another mouthful. Like any of us as we force ourselves to forget.

But I don't want to anymore. I want to remember; to go back.

When my lips meet his, he's startled, pulling away.

"No."

But I shake my head, tears still rolling down my face. "Yes."

Wesley kisses me then, his lips forceful and hard and angry, taking without asking. But I'm dead on the inside and it doesn't matter anymore.

When he wrenches his lips from mine, I keep my eyes closed, remembering. His hands are still on my waist, pulling me towards him even as he keeps his distance. It's so confusing and clear, all at the same time…

"Is this what you want? An empty night? So you can leave tomorrow and go back to your life? Leaving me here alone? Is that it? You want to hurt me?"

He shakes me as he speaks, emphasizing the agony in his heart, the pain I can hear.

I don't answer and he continues. "What about Gunn?"

Words wouldn't come; they jumble and confuse me as they race for my lips. Nothing's coming out.

"No; you chose. You made your choice. I know that. And now you're here, expecting me to kiss you, to make love to you. Why? So that you can hate me? Everyone else does; why not Fred? Why not? You want me to make it easy for you to hate me? Is that it?"

I stare, not understanding. Little bits and pieces start to flow through the haze of alcohol, permeating my muddled mind as it runs in circles.

"Oh no…" My voice is weak, scared. Wesley's scaring me. "Oh Wesley, I could never. Never, not even if I wanted to. Oh, I tried, tried and tried to hate you, but I couldn't."

I trail off, now staring once again at his lips, pressed together just a few inches away. I want them on mine; kissing me. I want them on my throat, my stomach…

My thoughts won't settle and I battle to get them away from where they're leading. I came here to confess my feelings; not to have a tryst on his living room floor that would end in him hating me.

"I could never hate you." I end, softly.

"Then why are you here?"

He thinks I want to use him. I realize it suddenly, the thought volatile in my mind. He thinks I want a night; then I'll disappear.

"Because."

It's all I say. But then he's kissing me again, and my arms are twining around his neck, and I'm pulling myself up so that I'm closer to his height. And suddenly we're collapsing on his couch, I on his lap, lips still crashing together as he seduces me.

And now I'm pulling away, trying to maintain a straight line of thought. He's looking at me, his eyes shining with passion and lust and hunger. It startles me when I realize that it's because of me – that I'm the one who could awaken such a need in him.

"Wait."

His face seems to fall, like he wanted this to happen. I know I do, but not if he thinks I'm going to disappear tomorrow.

"I'm here because I need to tell you something," I start, my carefully thought-out wording flying out the window at the look on his face. Like he's rethinking having me on his lap, like suddenly I'm voodoo and evil.

"What?" His eyes may say one thing, but his voice sounds hurt and angry.

"I think I…" I trail off, then instinctively lean forward; kissing him with a passion I didn't know I had in me. Shy Fred, quiet Fred, innocent Fred…not anymore.

When I ease back, leaving him stunned, I smile, leaning forward to whisper in his ear. "I think I love you."

And then I'm on my back and he's on top of me and we're kissing again. He pulls away one more time, eyes warm again; life blazing behind them again as he whispers to me, "I know I love you."

I won't tell you what happened next; you all know. It doesn't take a physics major to figure it out.

But what I will tell you is that I'm happy again. The world seems normal. Other than Angel who glares at me as I leave once the day is over, heading home to my Wesley. He doesn't like that I'm living with him, but he won't say anything. I've done nothing wrong.

And Charles frowns more; but I know it's for the best. I was living a lie when I was with him.

But other than that, the world has surprised me by creating a new sense of normal. A sense where I wake up to Wesley and fall asleep happy. This new normal is better, I think.

And my hurting has stopped.

_:fin:_


End file.
